i'll feel better when the winter's gone
by vores herlighed
Summary: somehow, in some way, in some ridiculously altered and obscure universe, lip cares.


"Name one time I've let you down."

He swallowed. This was a trick—a convoluted plan developed by a diabolically brilliant, sexually challenged mongrel he was unfortunately forced to call his brother. It was absurd and ridiculously elaborate and so sophisticatedly sound that maybe, just _maybe_, there was an entirely different reason behind his scheme and runaround choice of words. He couldn't help but take interest in his tone—which was, in fact, highly unappreciated in this case—and the way his thin lips merely curled and folded and creased unevenly under the pressure of his tongue, taking the time to find enough strength to fish out the question he's been dying to shrewdly catechize.

"But seriously, like... like up the ass?"

No answer—the silence is hauntingly overwhelming in a riveting sense. He licks his lips. Waiting.

"Do you get used to that?"

Why no, Lip, does Karen Jackson ever get used to your schlong infiltrating her filthy dungeon? Apparently not if she finds your goddamn father to be more disgustingly fascinating than yourself. Hitherto, you senselessly clever bastard, acceptance is key to a brotherly bond of mystery. Because he is well-aware that Lip will undoubtedly preach some impervious monopoly of high-strung words and concerning verses—a libretti of trepidation he is not fully prepared to hear—and he will sit and stir uneasily under his brother's speculations that what he is doing is wrong, immoral, and particularly and undeniably heinous in nature. He should care more, he stupidly concludes, about how his sexuality creates such mayhem and instability and brings in the high tides from the nether regions of a dubious heart within Lip—somehow he understands the redheaded mutt far more than his insensitive and humorless actions can concur, and upon the inference of an unsavory act that mocks his caring and troubled advances, lies Ian. A snag in the familial fabric, sleazy and hardened and unmistakably brilliant, ambitious in more ways than one—how he is a Gallagher remains a mystery.

"Can someone get used to that? I mean... the whole point of the digestive system is one-way traffic. It just is."

But Lip will never understand. He calculates and scolds under a watchful eye, reprimanding every inch of what he originally thought and believed his brother to be—yet he applies his impeccable intelligence and ludicrous aptitude in hypocritical ways. If he can find a way to financially fix or structurally stabilize a family continually in need of his excellence, then couldn't he take the time to appreciate and correctly apprehend his own _brother_?

"'Just is.' Like... like we're only given our lungs to freakin' smoke, right?"

They laugh—they're _laughing_—and suddenly, almost majestically, Ian can see his brother _trying_. Within a small flicker of warmth and conviviality, there is a promising string of hope he can thankfully dangle from and hold on to with a seeking hand. Because maybe Lip is right—has he ever let him down? Not usually, no—not really, _no_. And he knows Lip will provide an anonymous entourage of gay jokes in the future and he is unaware that his brother will cautiously glance in his direction when Kevin carelessly drops 'faggot' into regular conversation—yet there is an underlying trust, an unspoken and sacred bond between two brothers that is never questioned upon, because deep down, underneath all the angst and the lighthearted banter and the indisputable faith, Ian knows that Lip cares. Somehow, in some way, in some ridiculously altered and obscure universe, Lip cares.

So they pass the cigarette between each other, exchanging flippant glimpses and peeks as laughter roars and expands with the accompanying smoke from their lips as it gracefully billows into the transformed atmosphere of brotherly fortitude. Because there is a hindering magic about the situation—Ian is gay and Lip accepts it respectfully—almost as if there is an indefinite secret, truth, and promise of understanding. Ian knows that Lip will never fully be capable of grasping the concept behind the reality of his stipulation—despite his cleverness and great intellect and all they can logically suggest—but he accepts it humbly because he knows that it is all his brother can offer him and he is ironically content with that.


End file.
